


Your Mileage May Vary

by HagSpice



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Humor, M/M, Porn Star Tweek, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Richard Tweak is a horrible parent, Sexting, Sexual Humor, Switch Craig, Switch Tweek
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-29
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-10-18 11:50:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17580284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HagSpice/pseuds/HagSpice
Summary: Craig just wanted to buy a cake. He didn’t expect the owner of the bakery to be so feisty, hot, or…familiar? He can’t resist returning to the shop to thank the ornery man for his sugary handiwork. However, when he gathers the courage to ask the guy out, he realizes why Tweek looks so familiar. He's the guy in the videos Craig’s been watching since he was seventeen. His ultimate dream boy. Tweek is nothing like Craig imagined him to be, but reality is so much more fulfilling than any fantasy.





	1. Well-traveled

**Author's Note:**

> This was a prompt from the now defunct South Park Kink Meme on Tumblr. Let's take a moment to pour out a bottle of Jaegerman's S'mores Schnapps for all that adult content we've loved and lost. I started this beast in August, and slammed out 12k words in 10 days (which is unheard of from me), but it's been wasting away in my WIP folder since then. It was a bit overwhelming, so I decided to split it into chapters.
> 
> The song for this fic is, unequivocally, Toe Jam by Fatboy Slim and David Byrne. I saw David Byrne in concert this summer and it was absolutely amazing. If you're a WGI or modern dance nerd, search for videos of the American Utopia tour, it's right up your alley. Here's a [performance of the song](https://youtu.be/fi_bVRrzID4) from the tour I saw. 
> 
> Here's the [official music video](https://youtu.be/dB1Mw5kzB6k). It's super fun!

At age sixteen, Tweek Tweak lost his mother to ovarian cancer.

It was an unholy miracle that Richard and Marie Tweak became parents. It was impossible to imagine his parents ever having sex, let alone having enough of it to conceive a child, then bring that child to term, and the child surviving into adulthood. Each milestone of his existence only compounded Tweek’s disbelief. Wasn’t nature supposed to weed out the ‘unfit’ parents and offspring? Natural selection. What a goddamn joke. It would’ve made more sense if Tweek was an alien from another galaxy. As a child, on each birthday he wished that his parents would tell him he was part of an extinct alien race and that they adopted him. Jesus, even as a kid his outlook had been too bleak to imagine his real alien parents would save him from the Tweaks. Their genetic line would stop with Tweek, there was no fucking way he’d let the shitshow that was their legacy continue. Moreover, Tweek was certain that his cursed fetus was what caused the malignant growth in his mother in the first place.

Marie’s cancer had reached stage two when she got her diagnosis. Performing a hysterectomy, chemo and radiation was their course of action, though the prognosis was still uncertain. The treatment was aggressive, leaving Tweek’s mother chronically exhausted and unable to work, but when the treatments were finished, she was in remission. Though she never fully recovered her energy and spirit, several years passed and her routine checkups grew further apart. At an annual checkup however; the oncologist discovered cancer growing in other parts of her body, to the extent which made it inoperable. She wasn’t expected to live past six months.

Marie chose to stay at home for as long as she could and Tweek and Richard tried to keep her as comfortable as possible; but during the fourth month after the diagnosis, they made the decision to move her into hospice care. Marie spent six weeks under constant medical attention before the cancer overtook her body.

Marie Tweak’s final request of Richard was to take care of the shop. She asked Tweek to take care of his father. Neither parent ever thought to take care of Tweek, he always managed to survive on his own somehow. After the world ended, Tweek would undoubtedly still be there, right along with the cockroaches and the Twinkies. Not too bad for a nympho spaz. He of course loved his mother, despite her shortcomings as a parent, though his grief didn’t compare to his father’s devastation. By default, Tweek was left to manage the coffee shop. He was absent from school so much that he was only allowed to continue on to the twelfth grade after retaking several courses over the summer, which he did while working full time at the coffee shop.

At age eleven, puberty had hit Tweek like a slap to the dick. It was intense, occasionally painful, and could also feel really fucking good. However, he quickly learned that he needed to keep his desires hidden. It was a shit age to experience sexual urges; he was too young to touch someone _that way_ and it was difficult to make the feelings subside. For a while, Tweek made do with rubbing himself against something when he was alone, which was quite often seeing as how his parents worked almost constantly. When he was twelve and the other kids started sharing timid kisses and becoming interested in each other, he finally experienced the magic of physical affection.

Despite being an ‘odd’ child, Tweek had a decent number of friends. He did normal kid things like hugging, wrestling, tickling, and having them sit on his lap. The last one was a game changer. When asked- and he always knew who _not_ to ask- Tweek’s friends would gladly sit on his lap and let him wrap his arms around them while they played video games or read books. As he grew more confident, he started to test boundaries a bit more. He might nuzzle into someone’s neck or give them a kiss on the cheek. A couple friends were just as eager as he was, they even kissed him on the mouth! It was the absolute best to hug someone on his lap while they gave each other little pecks on the lips; it made him squirm in his seat, but in a good way. He liked all his special friends well enough, but he liked the boys the most. After getting caught in these situations by a couple parents, Tweek learned to be better at keeping his feelings to himself until he was older.

Attachment disorder, anxiety, bipolar II disorder. From the benign neglect of his mother, to his father holding a pistol to his nine year old head for a lesson on stranger danger, and practically never getting hugs or encouragement from either parent, Tweek had trouble forming healthy connections with people. A symptom of his mood disorder was what his psychiatrist called ‘hypersexual behavior’. Apparently being touch and affection starved for nearly his entire life and using sexual release as nearly the only way to relieve his anxiety wasn’t a great coping mechanism. He went too far when he was way too young to understand any possible repercussions of his dalliances, and instead only cared about making his body feel good. Tweek felt as if his bodily autonomy was the only thing in his life that he had control of, which led him to chase any opportunity to keep his mind quiet, any chance to feel present in his body. Though apparently, Tweek wasn’t even entitled to his autonomy.

Near his eighteenth birthday, Richard Tweak sat his son down and told him of their dire financial situation. The medical bills from Marie’s treatment were substantial and without her accounting abilities, their business and home were in jeopardy. Of course, Richard had a brilliant plan that would earn the money they so desperately needed. He had a friend from college who owned a production studio that made adult films. Of fucking course he would, when had Richard Tweak ever done anything normal? Richard had given them photos of Tweek and explained how ‘experienced’ he was.

“Son, everyone in town knows you’re promiscuous, there’s no point in trying to act innocent.”

“So that makes it okay to sell me like a sex slave?”

“Now, Tweek, that’s ridiculous. No one would be interested in a not-so-gently-used eighteen year old slave! Besides, this is all perfectly legal- I don’t even need to fake your death like I would if I sold you into slavery. It’s almost too convenient,” Richard chirped. “I thought you’d be agreeable to this; you can have all the homosexual intercourse you want _and_ help us out financially.”

“You thought I’d be okay with you forcing me to do it for money just because I’m not a prude? What parent thinks that’s an okay career for a kid that just finished high school?!”

“You should be thanking me for coming up with a solution so easily, you would have made this much more difficult if you were unattractive. The producers actually want you come out to visit, they think you’re a very pretty young man. Thankfully, you inherited my and your mother’s good looks.”

Richard paused to gaze at the wall with dreamy gaze, no doubt thinking of Marie, before a look of cogency suddenly returned. He flashed Tweek a smug grin and took a sip from his seemingly bottomless coffee mug.

Was he-? Yes he was, he was proud of his own problem solving. Tweek’s skin crawled. Richard actually thought that was a compliment. _Pretty_. Just what every teenage boy wants to hear. Tweek was a pretty pretty boy with golden curls and porcelain skin just like a precious little doll. Fucking fantastic. He’d probably be paired with older men in scenarios pandering to school girl or trap fetishes. What a dream come true. And what photos had Richard given them? His parents almost never took photos, and they stopped requesting school pictures after elementary school. Tweek didn’t post any pictures of himself on social media, and he was fairly certain Richard didn’t know how to even use a search engine, let alone find images of him. The thought of his father taking candid shots while they worked was gross enough, and Tweek hoped the secret photo sessions stopped there.

“Fantastic, some weird guy who’s old enough to be my father thinks I’m ‘pretty’. What, so he’s like my pimp or something?”

Sighing as though Tweek was incredibly slow, Richard spoke in his rarely used dad-tone. “My friend is a very nice man who runs a respectable business, Tweek. He’ll treat you well, there’s no need to be such a spaz.”

“I’m not being a spaz! I’m acting like any sane kid would when their dad tells them they have to do porn to help the family business! You never listen to me, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Son, I can’t force you to do anything. But we’re going to the studio next week. I’ll drop you off in the morning, and come back to pick you up later in the day. What you do while you’re there is your decision. Just keep in mind how much your mother would appreciate you taking care of the family business.”

 

* * *

 

Craig Tucker first saw Henri Horne when he was seventeen.

The summer before his senior year of high school Craig finally accepted that he was unequivocally gaybones for dick. It started with a fairly innocent conversation between him and his friend Kevin while they watched reruns of Star Trek: The Next Generation. Craig asked the offhanded question of whether androids could consent or had autonomy, which turned into discussing which of the crew member of the _USS Enterprise_ they found most attractive. Predictably, they landed on both of them admitting that though they never had done it before, they wouldn’t mind kissing a boy. A simple kiss progressed from one thing to another, resulting in Kevin knowing he was bi, and that for Craig, it was boys only from here on out.

Craig explored his newfound sexuality in earnest curiosity, and soon discovered the joys of M/M pornography. He came across a video that had the tags “barely legal” and “18-19”, which made him feel a bit squicky, but the other tags such as “cute twink” and “petite blond“ piqued his interest (Yes, Craig had a type). He was seventeen, so it wouldn’t be creepy to watch someone close to his age; they were a consenting adult, he wasn’t a pedo perv, right?

Kitten with a whip, that was Henri’s schtick; and Craig ate it up, licked his fingers, and asked for more. Henri was tooth achingly sweet. He had wavy blonde hair, large hazel eyes, fox-like facial features, and a perky ass. He had a wide eyed innocence that made it seem like he had never even heard of sex before, but Jesus-fucking-Christ, did he take cock well. It didn’t matter whether he was riding or swallowing it down, he was a sight to behold. Henri’s cock was average length, but was _thicc_. Craig usually imagined it was them inside him when he fucked himself with a toy. He liked to believe that all those beautiful moans and sighs were genuine; god they sounded so pretty. Craig knew that porn wasn’t realistic, that it was hyper-romanticised and often reduced to stereotypes; but he secretly hoped that having sex with the right person could be that fantastic.

In the beginning, dear Henri was in scenarios like ‘twink cheerleader gets fucked by football team’ or ‘blond twink gets spit-roasted by roommates’; like a pretty young man could only be a pocket pussy for beefy bros. After about a year in the industry, they featured in a film with an established actor and exploded in popularity. The concepts of their films became a lot less cliche, or dropped the premise of plot altogether, and their partners were more varied in ethnicity and gender expression.

Henri always bottomed, aside from the one bicurious film they made; a classic scenario where the gay guy loses their va-ginity to their sister’s friends at her slumber party. Oddly enough, that video was one of Craig’s favorites. Henri was in almost every scene, and the women were natural and mostly small-chested, so Craig wasn’t totally turned off by their presence. One scene featured a girl with skin tone very similar to Craig’s own. Without the view of the feminine face and front of her body, it was easy to imagine that it was him on his hands and knees for the lithe blond, eagerly taking it from behind.

Craig often imagined pushing Henri’s face into the floor as their pink lips begged for him. Watching their toned little ass bounce with his thrusts while their innocent hazel eyes stared in shock and wonder at the savage drilling he was getting. Occasionally, Craig indulged himself, imagining he could make the pretty little thing come from penetration alone. Or, if the elvish beauty was riding him, Craig would watch them jerk off, reaching his own orgasm as their cum splattered their bodies. No matter the position, Henri always wanted Craig to cum inside them; he was awfully fond of creampies. However, after they came (he always made sure they both came, he was a gentleman like that), the end was always the same. Craig would hold Henri close and stroke their hair while he told them how beautiful they were. The sweet blond would nestle into Craig’s chest, confessing that Craig was his favorite partner. Yep, he was a goddamn romantic idiot.

Craig concocted this fantasy as if he could whisk the young man away like some ridiculous Pretty Woman nonsense. _Hey baby, let me take you away from all this and put you up in a nice condo, where you can spend your time getting day drunk on white wine and cook me dinner while wearing nothing but an apron._ Everyone loves a story about a hooker with a heart of gold, right? Not that they were a hooker, just a porn star. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a hooker, Craig wouldn’t judge. Prostitution and porn were both part of sex work, anyway.

Fantasy Craig was dominant and always got what he wanted. He gave vulgar demands without embarrassment, and his doe-eyed cutie was always all too eager to please him. Basically, the fantasy version of himself wasn’t very much like actual Craig. The Craig who was usually uncomfortable making explicit requests, was nervous to try anything outside of standard vanilla, and too worried about hurting his partner to be very rough. The Craig whose looks and demeanor belied his confidence. The guys that usually hit on him expected him to be a cold bastard who would fuck them hard and fast, then quickly lose interest; good for a rebound, or a one-night romp to satisfy the itch to get railed into next week. They were often put off when Craig tried to have a real conversation or be sweet with them. He continued to take his chances on men like some sort of Prince Charming looking for the foot that fit his glass slipper (wait, was the shoe or the foot his penis?), hoping he wouldn’t be searching long.

 

* * *

 

Two weeks after his eighteenth birthday, Tweek Tweak appeared in his first pornographic movie.

Several days after his eighteenth birthday, Tweek sat in his father’s car in the lot of an adult film studio. Perhaps for the first time, he was reluctant to leave the man’s company. Tweek stared at his father, giving him a chance to change his mind. He would not beg. He would go to his grave, able to say he never prostrated himself before the man. Richard returned the gesture, giving him a blithe look until Tweek growled and climbed out of the car. Slamming the door with a harsh shove, he comforted himself with the realization that at least his father hadn’t rambled any mixed metaphors about anal sex and coffee.

The first thing Tweek did was fill out paperwork, just like any other job, except the only other job Tweek ever had was at the coffee shop. When it came to family, Tweek Bros. was above trivial matters like legal documentation and payroll. The mundane task did help him calm down a bit, preventing himself from running out the door in a panic. Then they went to the green room so Tweek could meet the actors that were present and gave them time to talk so Tweek could get comfortable. Thankfully, everyone was kind and professional, and even the guys that weren’t his type didn’t seem like they’d horrible to work with. After a while, the director asked several of the guys to stay and discuss this kind of acting in more detail.

The director paired Tweek with a young man named Davíd, who was a few years older than him (but who fucking wasn’t? He was barely legal) and who had been in the industry for several years. He had a gentle, but teasing personality and Tweek immediately felt at ease around him. It didn’t hurt that Tweek also found his soft brown eyes and coarse dark hair quite attractive. Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Davíd ran Tweek through the usual pre-production process for actors while a small studio room was set up for them. Tweek’s screen test was to be a blowjob, giving and receiving. How very thoughtful of them. The objective was to assess Tweek’s potential, not shooting a scene that would be headed for post-production, which was a bit of a relief. Tweek laughed to himself, if he sucked (haha he was _so_ funny), at least he’d still get a professional beej out of the debacle.

Thankfully, the set was intentionally closed and only contained several people besides Davíd and Tweek. They started clothed and kissing, moving through the usual progression of events, albeit at a much quicker pace and with occasional blocking instructions from the director and producer. Though he was self conscious nearly the whole time, Tweek genuinely enjoyed himself. Blowjobs were his specialty, after all. He went about his business, allowing himself to get lost in the act he enjoyed so much. It wasn’t until after he caught Davíd cum across his tongue, and was handed a towel and robe, that he remembered he was in a studio.

Surprisingly, the most awkward part for him was _getting_ a blowjob. He felt incredibly exposed and aware of his every movement. Luckily, Tweek had always vocal and expressive during sex, so he hoped that made up for any unflattering things he might have done. Once again, Tweek was smacked in the face with how bizarre his life was. He was earnestly hoping that he gave and got head well enough so that he could get paid to do it on camera. That was a honey of a record-scratch freeze-frame moment.

Apparently giving a fantastic blowjob was an employable skill, and the director asked Tweek to appear in a film that planned to shoot the following week. How could he possibly turn down the offer? Hid dad made it sound like they’d be out on the streets in a matter of weeks if he didn’t start the fuck-for-money business ASAP. In the intervening week, the studio administrative assistant booked Tweek a variety of appointments to prepare for the shoot; hair stylist, manicure, waxing, intimate bleaching. Weren’t you supposed to avoid getting bleach on your skin? Hopefully, they didn’t use actual bleach. He still couldn’t believe this was happening, where he was, what he’d done, who he’d done. It was the height of surrealism. Tweek almost forgot that his eighteenth birthday was only three days ago.

Oh and of course, he had to decide on a pseudonym. Tweek’s mother was French-Canadian, having grew up in Quebec and speaking mostly Canadian-French throughout childhood. Though Richard acted as if Marie had no life before the two of them met, she had taught her son some of the language and culture, and admitted that her first choice was to name him Henri. Eighteen year old Tweek was not above spite and pettiness, so this was the name he settled upon, though he knew it would never be pronounced the correct “awn-Ree”. The producer liked it, adding that the “i” in place of the “y” would seem cute and suit Tweek’s “innocent twink” look. Hooray.

In regards to his second name, Tweek was out of interest and inspiration. Apparently, porn names had changed quite a bit over the years. Gone were the days of ultra cheesy monikers, and the urban legend of using the name of a pet and the street you grew up on was simply that; a legend. It wouldn’t have worked for Tweek anyway, Richard never allowed him a pet, and his first childhood home was on State Route 453. What did the trick nowadays was alliteration, phallic or innocent imagery, and luxury. Chanel, Steele, Gunn, Foxx, Angel, Deville, Johnson; etcetera.

Tweek went with the third suggestion from one of his new coworkers. Horne. It checked the appropriate boxes. Alliteration, easy to pronounce, phallic, suggestive, not horribly cringe-inducing. Over a weekend that summer Tweek had binged the entirety of Twin Peaks, and he had to admit that young Audrey Horne was #aestheticgoals on the sex kitten front. So why the fuck not? It’s not like his dignity was at stake, that particular ship sailed the minute his father revealed his brilliant plan. So one morning, barely legal Tweek Tweak walked into an adult film studio and left that afternoon as the newly-minted twinkie pie, Henri Horne.

After a couple years in the adult entertainment industry, Tweek became quite popular and did well enough financially to put some of his wages aside. He kept the funds in different accounts at several banks and invested a small portion. It seemed that as long as Richard Tweak received a decent sum money from each of Tweek’s paychecks, he didn’t really look into the details of his son’s earnings. As a precaution, however; Tweek paid for a safe deposit box at a bank to house his paystubs and any documents he had from the coffee shop and his films, as well as a flash drive of anything Richard ever sent him by text, voicemail or email pertaining to his work. He also kept five thousand dollars cash in the deposit box for emergencies. It wasn’t advisable to store cash there, but it was the easiest to keep it available and away from his father. Tweek continued to squirrel away his earnings until the tender age of twenty-four. His films were distributed worldwide. He had fucked on camera for six years until he was finally able to leave.

Tweek consulted an attorney roughly nine months before he left the industry. Kyle Broflovski helped him gather anything that could support his case and advised him on how to safely proceed with his father and employment in the meantime. It seemed that staggering evidence of withholding pay for much of Tweek’s childhood, and “inflicting excessive psychological trauma” made for a strong case. They filed a civil suit and Tweek was more than ready to go to court; even if they won the case and still owed his attorney money, Tweek wouldn’t care. He wanted validation, to prove a point.

As it turned out, Tweek and Kyle didn’t have to put up with much of a fight. Richard’s counsel advised him to settle privately instead of taking the matter into litigation. A court case would cause scandal and negative media attention for the business. Though he secretly thought Richard wouldn’t pry into his life once he left, Tweek also filed a restraining order against him; he was absolutely done with his father and nothing in the world could persuade him otherwise.

In the month before Kyle’s firm served Richard, Tweek slowly moved his belongings to his new apartment. It was a tiny shoebox of a studio in an old, but charming stone building. The weathered parquet floors and large north-facing windows created the soothing habitat he never had growing up. Tweek had never felt such joy. Kyle mentioned that a colleague of his could help Tweek get assistance with a first-time homebuyers loan; that he could have more space, go straight to ownership. But Tweek was happy in his small apartment. It was all his, paid for by years of hard work. Besides, Tweek had plans for the bulk of his money.

Tweek began baking while in middle school, it was something interesting to do while stuck at the shop on evenings and weekends. The shop already had ovens for the flash frozen pastries they got from their wholesaler, and it was easy enough for Tweek to convince his mother to add things like flour, eggs and butter to their supply orders. He mostly brought his creations to school for his classmates, or offered them as complimentary samples to customers at the coffee house. One day, after serving a total asshole of a customer, he plopped down in front of the store laptop and determinedly added everything he needed to their next supply order. Tweek tracked the cost of materials and the sales of his baked goods, and proudly showed Richard the spreadsheets demonstrating the profits he made over the first two months. Apparently, his father hadn’t even noticed the new bakery makeover of the coffee shop, but at least he commended him on the increase in sales. By the time Marie became ill, Tweek had been selling his pastries at the coffee shop for years.

Kyle referred Tweek to a financial planner, and with a business model, product portfolio, and down payment, he obtained a small business loan. After much research and reluctant whining, Tweek decided to make the bakery a gluten-free establishment. Yeah, it’s trendy, but some people actually have allergies, and there weren’t any other bakeries in town that offered GF desserts. If the trend died down, he could always transition into a vegan or traditional bakery; everything he made was vegetarian, so it wouldn’t be too overwhelming to make the change. Tweek invited his best friend to the team as co-owner, and began his new life as a baker.

Two years later, Craig Tucker ordered a gluten-free birthday cake.


	2. Sugar On Top

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig meets his favorite porn star, who is nothing like he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, this chapter turned out longer than I expected, and is predominately dialog.
> 
> Google Translate told me that the name of Tweek's bakery means "sugar on top". Is that correct? Who the hell knows, I only know German and a few phrases of Hebrew. Whomp whomp.

Craig Tucker was one week away from turning twenty-five when he met Tweek Tweak.

Craig just wanted to order a birthday cake. The bakery wasn’t far from work, had great reviews, and fit his dietary restrictions. Yep, Craig Tucker had recently joined the ranks of the gluten-free elite. Apparently his chronic stomach issues and recent violent illness were a result of celiac disease. Neat. Of course he had to adopt the therapeutic diet that was currently exploited by the so-called “wellness” industry. He shuddered at the thought of having to ask wait staff about gluten-free bullshit and needing to scan the contents of every damn food product. Even Twizzlers- fucking Twizzlers -had gluten in them. He felt like a complete tool, but ridicule and judgement are better than slowly dissolving your organs from the inside out, right? Maybe.

The bakery door swung inward and struck the small bell suspended over the threshold. The shop was immaculate, yet not sterile; but, clean and modern. Black subway tiles lined the lower half of the walls and the area behind the shimmery white quartz counters. There were several small tables near the corner windows, through which, soft north-facing light streamed. The decor was minimal, but polished and intentional, punctuated with sparse accents in deep, golden yellow. The register unoccupied, Craig took the opportunity to scan the menu board, pleased to find that they also sold coffee and espresso.

Craig heard a thud and string of curses from the kitchen, and several moments later a young man approached the counter as he wiped his hands on his apron. He was sort of short, probably no taller than 5’8”, with wavy blond hair pinned away from his vulpine face, and large hazel eyes. He was on the stocky side in terms of physique, and the charcoal tank top he wore exposed his muscled arms. Craig ogled the man openly. He was nothing short of stunning. There was something familiar about him, like Craig had seen him before, though he couldn’t place where.

Looking at Craig with curiosity, the man cocked an eyebrow at him. “Can I _ngh_ help you?

Silently cursing himself for staring like a fool, Craig shuffled his feet over the tiled floor while he swallowed his pride. “I’m new to this whole gluten-free bullshit. I just found out I have celiac disease, so I’m looking for cake that doesn’t suck.” Craig stifled a groan. _Goddammit. Way to be a bitch to a hot stranger because you’re embarrassed about your diet._

Tweek smiled, pleased that he could help someone with actual dietary needs, rather than bandwagon-jumping trendsetters. Sure the fad diet brought the shop plenty of business, but he still loathed bougie dickheads. Several beats of silence were all Tweek needed to assess the man at the counter. Judging by his button up shirt and trousers, he likely worked in an office. The pale blue of his shirt highlighted the varying shades in his pewter eyes, and looked striking against his tawny skin. His clothing complimented his complexion perfectly, though Tweek was certain that was coincidental, rather than intentional. To top it off, he was adorably soft around the middle, and _tall_. He wouldn’t mind going mountain climbing, not one bit.

“Well, you’re in the right place.” Craig watched the blond man gesture to the phrase stenciled above him on the wall. “ _Sucre au Dessus_. ‘It Doesn’t Suck’.” He then folded his arms over his chest and stared blankly at Craig.

Craig allowed himself the tiniest smirk. He knew fuck-all about French, but he did know when his deadass snark was handed back to him. And that accent. It sounded like he actually knew the language.

“Isn’t it risky to give your business a non-English name? What if I actually believed you?”

“Hey, lazy Americans learned how to pronounce ‘quesadilla’ and ‘paella’, who says they can’t learn a few words of French? Bakeries are entitled to pretentious names, man.” The baker reached to the counter behind him and retrieved a laptop and a drinking glass. “And, saying whatever the fuck I want is one of the perks _geh_ of being the proprietor of this charming establishment. I’m Tweek, by the way.” He gave Craig a lazy salute.

“Oh, uh, Craig. I’m Craig.”

“Well Craig, all the ingredients here are vegetarian and gluten-free; those are the only ingredients we keep onsite, so there’s no chance of cross-contamination. You won’t notice a difference in texture unless you’re _ngh_ a pretentious douchebot obsessed with describing ‘mouthfeel’,” he said the word with a look of disgust, and Craig couldn't blame him. “So don’t fuckin’ give me any sceptical nonsense before you try anything.”

Craig bowed his head in compliance as he bit his cheek to hold back his smile.

“We sell pancake mixes, flash-frozen waffles and breads, if you like to keep things like that on-hand at home. We can also make vegan orders upon request and with at least a week of notice.”

Processing the new information, Craig nodded. Okay, at least he could just order whatever sounded good and not be limited to like two flavors or something. It didn’t hurt that the owner- _Tweek_ -was cute and clever.

“You said you need a cake, right?” Tweek took a sip of his water before removing the plastic straw from the tumbler and holding it between his teeth like a cigarette, the end bobbing as he chewed it.

“Yep.”

“Like a nine inch round cake, I assume?” Tweek pointed to a premade cake inside a glass display case.

“Uh, sure.”

“What message you want on it?”

“Oh, um, no message.”

Tweek took the straw from his mouth and began to twirl it between his fingers and gave Craig a skeptic look. “Really? You’re just gonna give some fucker a blank cake?” He leaned over the counter and propped his chin on his palm. “Is it for something embarrassing, like one of those ‘Sorry I puked on your dog and passed out in your parents’ bed while I was naked’ apology cakes? I won’t judge, man. I’ll write whatever you want, I have no shame.” Tweek shrugged his shoulders in ambivalence to punctuate his stance.

Craig summoned his finest deadpan. “Um close, I slathered myself in maple syrup before getting in bed with their parents.”

Tweek held the straw between his teeth and gave Craig the briefest once-over with his eyes. “You’re alright, I like you,” he smirked.

This time, Craig let a smile spread over his face, exposing his teeth, then decided to fess up.

“Ok fine. It’s for me. My birthday. I know my friends will want to get me a cake, so I’m taking care of it before they do.” Flustered by the attention, he ran a hand through his hair, though he didn’t see the way Tweek clenched the straw between his teeth at the action. “I haven’t told my friends about the gluten-free thing. They’re gonna bust my balls about it, and that’s like the cardinal sin of birthdays.”

“It’s the one day a year people are obligated to not be dicks,” Tweek nodded in agreement.

Craig noted how Tweek’s muscles flexed as he folded his arms across his chest, creating a defined ridge that ran from his shoulder to the crook of his neck. _Sweet traps, bro._ He started to think about what what noises Tweek might make if he sunk his teeth into that beautifully sculpted muscle. “Yeah,” he breathed.

“Not a problem, I’ll just decorate the top without a message. Seeing as how you’ve been recently blessed with a dietary restriction and this order is for your birthday, I’ll give you a tasting plate so you can decide what flavor you want. Sound good?”

“Sure, ‘preciate it.”

“So Craig, what do you like? What are you into?”

“What?” Realizing he zoned out, Craig’s eyes snapped back into focus. He had been distracted  by the way Tweek’s hazel eyes picked up the shades of green in the flannel shirt tied around his hips. Tweek had really pretty eyes. At least his flat tone covered any embarrassment in his voice.

Tweek smirked at Craig’s flustered expression; he looked like an animal caught in a trap. Sure, it was probably a dick move to tease the guy, but he seemed like a huge dork and he looked mighty tasty. Tweek had a thing for cute dorks.

“For your cake.” Tweek lifted his eyebrows. _Like, duh Becky._ He watched Craig squirm for another moment. He couldn’t resist. “Favorite colors? You want like generic flowers or something more personal?”

Craig looked off to the side, avoiding Tweek’s eyes, as he rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Oh. Yeah, um, I like blue and purple. Um, space, guinea pigs, science fiction, outdated anime, uh, space.”

Why couldn’t he just fucking shut up? God, he just rambled about his childish interests to a hot guy; however, Tweek didn’t seem put off in the slightest. He just carefully typed everything into the order notes, his pale green eyes flicking to Craig’s face every so often. Was there a fondness or gentle amusement in Tweek’s eyes? Craig thought perhaps so, though it may have just been wishful thinking.

Finished entering notes for Craig’s order, Tweek slapped the key of the laptop with the final keystroke and chirped, “Alright, Spaceman Craig, I’ll have your cake ready by 4pm, next Thursday. Now, let’s get you something sweet.”

Tweek walked back to the kitchen to retrieve a plate and began trimming thin slices from the cakes in the display case, while he teased, “How old you gonna be, this your sweet sixteen, man? Wouldn’t you rather have a Ferrari cake?”

He slid the full plate across the counter, along with a fork and napkin.

Craig scoffed. “As if. My love can only be bought with a Lambo.”

Handsome, dry, and funny; Craig was just too precious. If Tweek had a tail, it’d be wagging something fierce. Still waiting for an answer, he continued to look at Craig expectantly.

“It’s my twenty-fifth.”

Ah, excellent. Tweek was shit at guessing ages. Just a couple years younger than himself, how fortuitous. “Quarter-life crisis, dude. Good time to quit your job to follow Khalid on tour and get a Fiat.”

“Yeah, but I don’t think I can attend Coachella again. It’s become way too commercial.”

Tweek snickered as he returned to his laptop. “So Craig, which flavor would you like? What tickles your taste buds?”

Okay, that phrase was super dorky and Craig was sure he’d heard his grandmother use it at some point. Tweek was such an odd mishmash of a person. “They were all delicious, truly. I don’t like chocolate that much, but I wouldn’t mind having the Hostess Cake one again. But, hmm… I’ll go with the almond-marzipan with raspberry filling.”

“Oh! Thank you, that’s very kind of you to say.” As he recorded Craig’s selection on the order form, Tweek felt his cheeks flare with warmth. It was a simple compliment; however, the tone was so genuine that it made his heart thump in his chest. “Mhmm, that’s a favorite of mine. It’s basically princess cake, which is especially popular in Austria and Germany. I didn’t label it ‘princess’, so people would be more willing to try it. Don’t wanna challenge anyone’s fragile-ass masculinity, ya know?”

“Doesn’t bother me, I happen to make an excellent princess. My little sister used to dress me up and do my makeup, we played princesses plenty of times.”

Tweek beamed. The image of a pint-size nasally princess was too dear for words. “My suspicions were correct. You’re alright, Craig.”

* * *

When Craig came to pick up the order the following week, there was no sign of Tweek. Spying a box on the end of the counter, he noticed a yellow slip of paper marked “Craig” taped to the side. To his surprise, there was a small parcel sitting on top of the cake box. He lifted the lid to find a large sugar cookie that said “Happy 25th, Starman” with the constellation of his astrological sign done in royal icing. He blinked, taken aback by the thoughtful gesture. Carefully setting the cookie to the side, he opened the cake box.

The top was a swirl of the night sky in subdued shades of blue, unlike the obnoxious neon colors usually on baked goods. Small yellow stars dotted the surface, along with a light sprinkle of gold and silver dragees. While this was lovely, Craig’s focus was on the decoration that dominated the surface. A tortoiseshell guinea pig floated peacefully in space, complete with space helmet. Craig didn’t try to hide his grin. He couldn’t believe Tweek had done that for him. And the artwork was flat and not raised, obviously not piped icing. Was it painted with a brush? Craig had questions, and now, an excellent excuse to return to the bakery and strike up a conversation with Tweek.

Hearing a clatter of pans followed by footsteps, Craig looked up to see a freckled young man with dark blond hair. He looked at Craig, who closed the lid of the pastry box.

“Here to pick up? You’re Craig, I take it.”

“Yep, that’s me.”

As the man ran Craig’s debit card and completed the receipt, Craig took a moment to scan the bakery. He couldn’t see anyone else through the kitchen doorway, nor did he hear any indication of another person.

“So, is um Tweek here today?”

Kenny looked at the guy- _Craig_ -sizing him up. “He’s not in, but I can relay a message for you, if ya like.”

“Oh, no, that’s alright. I was hoping to catch him in person.”

Kenny watched as Craig drummed his fingers on the stone countertop, sensing his nervous energy. “Look, I hate to discourage repeat business, but Tweek doesn’t need any ‘fans’ sniffing around. If you’re not buying a cake, I suggest taking your interest elsewhere.”

“Uh, excuse me? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“All I’m saying is, I have a shotgun and a shovel in the trunk of my car. You’re not the first guy who’s tried this, and I know how to deal with it.”

“Again dude, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Is it even legal to keep a gun in your car?” This sure as hell escalated quickly- was this guy serious?

“Even if you are being truthful, I don’t know you from Adam, can’t just take your word for it. Besides, you totally have that stalker look about you.”

“What look? This is my face.”

The scowl didn’t exactly refute Kenny’s point, but he suspected that this guy might be afflicted with a major case of resting bitch face. Craig’s genuine confusion eased Kenny’s mind a little; he was still dubious, however; the guy could very well be lying. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Uh huh.” Kenny looked the man up and down, still sizing him up. “Look, I’m letting you know now, pull any skeevy shit and you’ll regret it.”

His parcel in tow, Craig knit his brows together in confusion and muttered, “Uh yeah. Thanks, for the advice I guess,” before turning on his heel and pushing the door open.

As he started the car, he sat a moment, trying to process what the hell all that was about. Was that guy Tweek’s spouse or brother, maybe? If anything, _that guy_ seemed like a creepy stalker, telling customers to stay away, and giving vague threats. Whatever. Tweek was a grown ass man, he could make decisions for himself, and Craig was pretty certain he had sent some non-platonic vibes. 

* * *

A flash on golden hair popped up from under the counter, along with pale, uncovered arms. Tweek was working today, possibly alone. Craig waited several minutes, watching as the man flitted around the shop. He was _not_ stalking Tweek. Okay, so maybe he had spent a few of his lunch breaks in his car, parked across the street from the bakery and hoping to spot him inside. Twice he saw the other blond guy behind the counter, packaging cakes or typing away on the store laptop. Even if Tweek was somewhere in the shop, Craig was not going near that with a ten foot pole.

This was probably his best chance. He just needed to suck it up and go inside. He’d already thought about how he wanted to thank Tweek, along with several other talking points. It was best to be prepared, as his nerves would likely throw his brain off track. Craig was not exactly skilled at chatting up guys.

At the chime of the bell, Tweek saved his inventory sheet and turned away from his laptop. He prepared his expression for customer interaction; however, his face brightened when he saw who it was. _Jesus, Allah, Buddha, I love you all. Thank you for this beautiful boy bounty._

“Craig! What brings you in today?”

“You weren’t here when I picked up my cake, and I wanted to thank you, so…” So Tweek remembered his name, he said it without missing a beat. That was a good sign, right?

“Thanks, man. But it’s my job, you don’t have to thank me.” Craig could have shown his gratitude by leaving a good review online like most customers, the fact that he chose to do it in person… Tweek decided to play coy, hoping to draw out Craig’s intentions. He was not keen on embarrassing himself by reading too much into the situation.

“Well, it was really beautiful and my friends were impressed. You were right, I didn’t notice any difference in texture, no one else noticed either.”

“Ah, so you and your friends aren’t pretentious tools. Good to  know.” Okay, he’s here and being super sweet, Tweek just needed to keep him here. “So, _ngh_ can I make you a drink?”

Craig’s eyes followed the sweep of Tweek’s hand as he gestured to an espresso machine.

“God, yes. Hook that thing up to an IV for me, if you can.”

“Sorry man, I’m not licensed for that. My roommate could probably set you up, though. Cappuccino, straight espresso, pick your poison.”

“Hmm, flat white?”

“Sure, excellent choice. Underappreciated.”

Tweek indulged his ego, grinning to himself while he prepared the espresso for Craig’s drink. Well, he accepted Tweek’s offer to stay longer, so perhaps he did have intentions of the romantic variety.

“People got all worked up when Harbucks started advertising it, calling it a hipster fad.” Tweek paused to run the steamer and coat the top of the drink with the milk. “But the flat white has been around, like forty years.”

As Tweek slid the demitasse and saucer across the counter, Craig quirked an eyebrow. “You seem to know quite a lot about coffee.”

Tweek made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a snort and a bitter laugh. “My parents owned a coffee house. I spent most of my life in that hellhole.”

Craig took a sip and closed his eyes, spending a moment to swipe his tongue through the crema that clung to the side of the cup. Fuck, it was incredible. _Damn fine._ Lost in the sensory experience that good coffee creates, he failed to notice the way Tweek sunk his teeth into his bottom lip as he watched Craig.

It seemed like there was a lot to unpack with that subject, so Craig decided to steer the conversation elsewhere. “So, how did you decorate the cake? It was so realistic and smooth, what did you use to make that?”

“Oh! They’re gel pigments for food, you paint with them. Sort of like watercolor. Actually, um, do you mind if I add it to the gallery on the shop website? I’m kinda proud of how well it came out.” He actually didn’t need Craig’s consent, but Tweek wanted to hint that he put extra effort into it for him. Moreover, he was floundering to find things to say besides ‘Care to step into my office, so I can suck your dick?’.

“Absolutely, show it off, dude. It’s impressive, really. Do you often paint guinea pig astronauts on cakes?”

Tweek shrugged. “There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? It was fun to try something new.”

The longer they talked, Craig couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he’s seen Tweek before. When the conversation was winding down and approaching the appropriate time for farewells, Craig took a deep breath and steeled himself for the horribly awkward thing he was about to do.

“So uh, Tweek? Would y-”

Craig made the grave mistake of making eye contact. Tweek looked up at him through his eyelashes, and Craig’s voice stuttered in his throat.

It hit him like a medical-grade silicone dildo across the face. _Him. Jesuschristmonkeyballs it’s Him._ His number one sexual fantasy.

Those big hazel eyes, wavy blonde hair, his sharp features. He’d filled out and wore his hair longer, but Craig was certain it was him. Fuck. He’s talking to Henri Horne. And they flirted? He had thought so, but he wasn’t sure of anything anymore. A gorgeous, fiery, sex god knows what a stupid dork he is. _Shit. Fuck. Damn. Shitfuck._ Craig never imaged in his life he’d meet a porn star, let alone Him. Well, this explains why he hadn’t made a film in two years. God, he was nothing like Craig expected; he was coarse, confident, and charmingly bizarre.

While craig.exe stopped running, Tweek’s eyes roved over the dark moles and beauty marks that dappled his skin like sweet little sprinkles. Tweek pushed a curl of hair behind his ear and raised an eyebrow. “Craig? You were _ngh_ about to say something?”

“Oh. Fuck. Yeah, I was.” Tweek- _Henri_ -waited patiently. “Would you um, maybe like to, uh... Go out with me sometime? Yeah, would you like to go out with me?”

“I’d like that very much.”

* * *

“He came into the shop again.”

Tweek slumped against the door and scrubbed his palms over his face.

“Who!? The dark-haired guy? The nerdy one?” Bebe perked up, tossing her textbook aside.

“Yeah. _Hnng._ ”

She was pretty certain what brought the man back to the bakery, but she wanted to hear Tweek admit it, even if she had to pry it out of him. “Well… what did he want?”

Peeking through his splayed fingers, Tweek practically whispered, “He uh… he asked me out.”

Bebe let out a high-pitched squeal as she bounded over to Tweek, hugging and lifting him off the ground. “Baby boy! You haven’t dated anyone in so long, that’s fantastic news!”

Tweek wasn’t entirely sure how fantastic it was, and chuckled shyly. “Heh. He seemed really nervous, I thought he would have an aneurysm.”

“Aww, that’s really cute, Tweek. I bet he’s a sweetheart.”

“Yeah, it is pretty cute,” Tweek smiled to himself. “I can’t tell if he knows who I… was. There was no leering or perviness, but you never know.”

Bebe nodded thoughtfully. She knew exactly what Tweek meant, she’d left the business a year before Tweek had. They’d met on set when they played siblings in his one bicurious film and quickly became close friends. “Yeah, it can be hard to tell when you first meet someone. If he didn’t seem like a creep both times you saw him, that could be a good sign, even if he does recognize you.”

“Maybe.” He sighed as he swooned onto the couch. “I think I’m in love.”

In a flurry of movement, Bebe had Tweek pinned to the couch, staring him down with wide, wild eyes.

“WHAT?! REALLY?”

“Christ no, Bebe! I just met him! I was fucking joking,” he groaned. “At least Craig gets my jokes.”

“Well, it sounds like you dweebs are perfect for each other.”

* * *

“Ugh!” Craig slammed the door and shuffled to the couch before flopping down, face first.

Clyde spun around in his lounge chair to face him. “What’s up, dude?”

“Nothing,” Craig muttered into the cushion.

The clack of Jimmy’s crutches entered from the kitchen. Great, both his roommates were home. At least he’d only have to tell this story once.

“Then w-why are you being a m-melo melodramatic baby?”

Craig kept his face buried in the couch, but raised his middle finger in the general direction of Jimmy’s voice.

“C’mon Craig, tell us,” Clyde whined. “Pleeeeeeeese. C’mooooon!”

Craig relented, he knew neither of them would drop it until he shared. “I asked someone out today. He said yes.”

Clyde sprawled on the floor in front of Craig and propped his chin in his palms. “Well dish, girl!”

“Where did you g-guys meet?”

“He made my birthday cake. He owns a bakery.”

“Aww, he made your cake? Isn’t that just goddamn adorable!” Clyde used an exaggerated sing-song tone, like a parent making a big deal about their child’s finger painting. He savored any opportunity to embarrass Craig with attention.

“A b-baker, huh? Does this mean he’s your sh-sh-sugar daddy?”

Clyde shot Jimmy finger guns in approval. Craig would’ve found it funny too, if he were not the butt of the joke. Instead, he scoffed. “I don’t think he’s the ‘daddy’ type.”

But then his mind conjured the image of Tweek with his arm wound back, poised to deliver a punishing slap on his naked ass. Those gorgeous traps and biceps flexing as Craig pleaded for his daddy to... _Fuck._ He had to stop objectifying Tweek, he’s a person for Christ’s sake. Even though he’d seen the man naked (many times and from a variety of angles), he shouldn’t project all his fantasies onto Tweek like he was a sex doll.

To Craig’s surprise, Clyde granted him a rare gesture of clemency, and steered the conversation back to the fact that Craig scored a date.

“Okay, okay. A cute baker agreed to go out with you, why are you being all emo?”

“It’s complicated. And fuck you.”

Craig knew he was being petulant, forcing his friends into a game of twenty questions, yet he was certain he was entitled to it. Jimmy and Clyde would have to work for the information. Especially since they were going to razz him about it for the foreseeable future.

“How so, Cr-Craig?”

“I’ve seen him before.”

“Like you slept with him before and he didn’t remember you? He’s dated a friend of yours?”

“God, I wish it was something that simple.” Craig heaved a heavy sigh, dreading the reveal.

“Craig, buddy, that clears u-u-up nothing whatsoever.”

Groaning once again, Craig rolled onto his back and draped an arm over his face. “Okay, remember back in college when you guys asked me what was so great about anal sex?”

Clyde and Jimmy’s exuberant laughter told him that, yes, they did remember that particular evening.

“How could we forget? God, we were so drunk.”

“Yeah. Then you had me show you some porn.”

“Go o-on.”

“It starred a small blonde guy….”

Clyde slapped his palms on the ground. “No. Fucking. Way! You’re going out with a porn star?!”

“Oh my god! You were obsessed. You actually sulked wh-wh-w after he stopping making films.”

Craig squirmed in his seat a little and looked down at the floor. “...Yeah.”

Clyde gave Craig a side glance, analyzing his stiff posture, downcast gaze, and the fingers drumming on the couch cushion.

“You still watch him, don’t you!” It wasn’t even a question. Clyde had caught him, and he wasn’t letting this go. “You probably saved it all on your hard drive so you can have a little fap sesh with blondie whenever you want!”

Craig grit his teeth and waited for them to get it all out of their systems, commanding his face to remain neutral. When Clyde rolled onto his back, clutching his stomach and shaking with laughter, he whipped a pillow at his face. Clyde only let out a small yelp before clutching the pillow to his chest.

“Okay, okay, so how did you ask him out? Did you ask him to sign your dick? Or was it a bottle of lube? Wait, no- I got it! You had him sign a dildo replica of his junk!”

“I don’t have one of those, Clyde!” Craig snapped.

“But you’re thinking about it nuh-now, aren’t you?”

“Goddammit.”

 


	3. Just What Do You Plan To Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Expectations, performance anxiety, hormones. What the hell are these guys going to do with each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof, it took me much longer to finish this chapter. But! This story just passed 1k hits, so celebratory chapter! I can't believe we've reached 1,000 hits in one month. Thank you guys so much for reading <3
> 
> I decided to make Craig an actuary for his career. I have one friend with a master's degree in physics and another with a PhD, and they're both actuaries. So there you have it.
> 
> Thing are heating up a bit, but this chapter is mostly a big tease. Soon, my pets. Soon.
> 
> p.s. I'm trying out a work skin for IOS messaging in this chapter. It's pretty nifty! I found the instructions [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6434845/chapters/14729722#workskin)

 

Craig  
  
So when are you going to wine and dine me?  
  
What night sounds good to you?  
  
How about Wednesday evening?  
  
Sure, that works  
  
What would you like to do?  
  
Well, um probably not dinner  
  
I don’t want to be one of those tools who asks for the gluten free menu  
You’re going to have to accept your fate sooner or later, man  
  
Maybe. Not yet  
  
Let me cling to my pride a while longer  
  
Alright, fine. Well, how about ice cream and a walk through the park?  
  
Yes, that sounds lovely

* * *

Taking one last look in the bathroom mirror, Tweek picked at his grey plaid flannel. The shirt had dried with the collar bunched up, causing it to wave around like a stubborn cowlick. After dabbing some water on the collar, he grabbed a hair pin from the packet below the sink. Sliding the bobby pin around the collar and neckline, Tweek nodded at his reflection. There. The fabric had a few minutes to dry, and he didn’t look like a complete slob. Unfortunately, his eyes dropped to the sage v-neck tee he had under the flannel. Ugh.

Only rich guys and twinks wore v-neck tees. Tweek didn’t have a trust fund and the tee was Old Navy, not Armani. Besides, he was more of a twunk than a twink, right? Tweek buttoned the flannel. _Ew, gross. Definitely keeping it unbuttoned._ From his right pocket, his phone buzzed, showing a popup alert that his date with Craig began in fifteen minutes. With a resigned sigh, he tore himself away from the mirror, and made his way through the apartment and to the front door.

“Oooh, Someone’s wearing their ‘Fuck Me’ jeans. Who’s the lucky gentleman?”

Oh no. Time for the inquisition. Tweek looked down at his pants. Slim fit, dark wash with an impeccable fade in the center of the thigh. They were the most expensive jean he’d ever purchased, and he only wore them on special occasions in order to preserve their beauty. Kenny had his number alright.

“A guy who came back to the shop to thank Tweek for his handiwork.” Bebe tittered from the couch.

Tweek scowled. What a traitor.

“What’s he look like?” Kenny narrowed his eyes, looking back and forth between the other two blonds.

He was trapped. Kenny was lounging on the loveseat, a scant four feet from the front door. Tweek stood in the mouth of the hallway that led to their bedrooms, the only exits being the door to the fenced backyard or past Ken. Not good. Kenny often acted blithe, but when it came to Tweek’s and Bebe’s suitors, he was just as bad as a sitcom dad trying to protect his virgin daughters. Stalling for time, Tweek rolled his shirtsleeves to his elbows, trying to emit an air of ambivalence. Bebe got him into this situation, she could resolve it, too. Her brown eyes snapped to Tweek, and after a moment, she got the hint.

“Apparently, grey eyes, tawny skin, a huge dork-”

“Black hair, tall, no ass to speak of?”

Tweek frowned. Craig had a _little_ bit of ass. His general lack of ass was cute, actually.

“I knew that guy was trying to get in your slutty bikini briefs! He had this look about him, like a tall, dark Jeffrey Dahmer!”

Bebe rolled her eyes so savagely Tweek thought they may get caught in a perpetual motion conundrum. “Kenny, that’s absolutely ridiculous! And they’re not slutty, they make his ass look amazing.”

Tweek threw up his hands. “ _Thank you!_ Guys fucking love it, I’ll have you know,” he huffed.

“Well, it didn’t look like the guy had any muscle, and your upper body’s pretty ripped; you could definitely take him if he tries anything.”

“Kenny, you have no room to talk about anyone trying to get in my pants. We met on Grindr, remember? When we met in person, you immediately told me you were a fan.”

Kenny waved him off. “Yeah, but _I’m_ not a creepy stalker!”

“Ken, our baby boy is all grown up, you’ve got to let him leave the nest and get that good worm... or something.” Bebe strolled to the loveseat and plopped down on Kenny’s legs to restrain him. “Tweek, go have a good time, babe. I’ll make sure Kenny doesn’t try to file a missing person report.”

* * *

**First Date**

“That’s what an actuary does? Is that as ass-numbingly boring as it sounds?"

“Yep. Statistics, analysis, and a shit ton of math. It can be dull sometimes. I like the problem solving aspects of it, though.”

Tweek nodded along, chomping the rim of his ice cream cone. Okay, from what he knew about Craig, he could see him excelling at that sort of thing. “But how’d you go from physics to _that_?"

“I thought about continuing with physics, going to grad school and shit. But you tend to get stuck in a lab, getting more and more graduate degrees, narrowing your scope of study until it’s time to retire. And I don’t want to teach, so...” He watched as Tweek ran his tongue over his salted brown butter ice cream, before forcing his eyes elsewhere. He was well aware of what magic Tweek’s tongue was capable of. That was not something he could focus on while trying to have a conversation. “The skills transfer pretty seamlessly. There’re always open jobs and it pays well. And I don’t have to do it forever.” Craig shrugged, implying that he wasn’t bitter about the situation.

“I understand that completely. Your job doesn’t have to be your life, or a defining aspect of your personality; it can just be work if you want it to.” Tweek popped the end of the waffle cone in his mouth, humming while trying to think of a way to revive their conversation to something more lively. There was something hanging in the air between them, and he could sense Craig had something to tell him, which was ready to tumble through his lips. The lips currently wrapped around the plastic spoon filled with blackberry ice cream. Tweek certainly wouldn’t mind giving Craig something else to wrap his lips around.

“So what’s the deal with the other guy that works at your shop?"

“Oh, Kenny?” That was unexpected. God, what had Kenny said to Craig? The two of them need to have a little chat, apparently. “He’s the co-owner. Manages the finances, advertising, those kinds of things. We met about five years ago; he’s one of my closest friends. Also, my housemate.”

“He seems like a very loyal friend.”

Tweek snorted. “That’s a diplomatic way to say it. Kenny’s a wonderful friend, really. But he’s protective of me and Bebe- our other roommate. She and I met...a few years before Kenny and I.”

At the trailhead, they passed a trash can and Craig crumpled the unbleached recycled paper dish, tossing it into the bin along with the spoon. _It’s probably recycled sustainable plant material or some shit._ There was a natural dip in the conversation after they talked about their roommates, and Craig realized this was most likely the best time to bring _It_ up. Fuck. He’d stalled enough, he needed to come clean with Tweek, before they got into anything more personal. It was the right thing to do.

“Tweek, I um. I have something I’ve gotta tell you. It seems wrong not to.”

Summoning what courage he had, Craig stopping and looked down at Tweek. The unmistakable look of understanding in his earthy green eyes, told Craig that he’d expected this. He wanted to bolt, to take off to the parking lot, and speed off in his car. But, Craig Tucker was not a liar- and he totally wasn’t a murderer-pervert either. If nothing else, he would prove that Kenny guy wrong.

“I know,” Craig licked his lips, the last traces of sugared berries doing nothing to ease his nerves. “I know about your previous work. I’ve um, seen it all. Many times.”

So he _did_ know. Tweek cocked his head to the side, giving Craig a once over. He had shrank into himself a bit, making brief eye contact before looking down at the ground. There was nothing wrong about Craig watching Tweek’s films; watching porn was normal, and he had told Tweek on his own, without prompt. The desire to reach up and pat Craig’s cute little cheeks in comfort swept through him, but Craig wasn’t quite done yet.

“I didn’t realize who you were until after I decided to ask you out- I swear! Right before I actually did it, I realized that was why you looked so familiar. I-I don’t expect anything from you, and I understand if you don’t want to go out again.”

Tweek sighed and let Craig’s words hang in the air. He studied the ashamed and contrite expression on his face longer than necessary before answering; the flustered man was just too endearing. _Stop being an asshole and comfort the boy, for fuck’s sake. You’re such a sadist_. “If at the end of the night my corpse is violated and chopped into little pieces, I’m haunting your ass for the rest of your life.”

Craig’s hands shot up above his shoulders in a gesture of surrender. “That’s fair. I won’t argue with that.”

“I’m sure you have a lot of questions, and you can ask me, just not quite yet. I want to enjoy this state of blissful ignorance a while longer.”

“So...you’re okay with it? You’re not skeeved out?” Was it really not a big deal to Tweek? He was obviously comfortable with his sexuality, which wasn’t surprising at all, but did this mean Tweek was also comfortable with _him_? The thought sent a little thrum of affection through his core.

“Yeah, it’s totally fine. You have nothing to be ashamed of, Craig.” Stepping closer, Tweek slipped his arms around Craig’s elbow and guided him forward on the trail.

“Oh. So do you want to…?”

“Go out again? Absolutely.” Tweek took a deep breath. “But with one caveat.”

Craig lifted a brow and motioned for him to continue.

“We’re not fucking. Not for a little while, anyway.”

“Oh, Okay? That’s alright, I can manage.” Interesting. Not a problem for Craig, but unexpected. He expected Tweek to go in, guns blazing with his usual brashness. Craig hadn’t assumed he would strip naked and climb on top of him during their first date, but….

“I wanted to make that clear, so you wouldn’t think _ngh_ I was leading you on or something. It’s okay if you want to get some on the side in the meantime- not that you need my permission! But you don’t have to sneak around or anything.”

Craig smiled at that. God, it was refreshing to see someone so open. Even if that someone seemed to lack any sort of internal filter. “That’s considerate of you, but I don’t think that’ll be necessary. I’m not into seeing multiple people simultaneously.”

“O-okay.” Tweek felt relieved. Perhaps it was selfish, but he couldn’t deny that he was flattered by Craig’s willingness to go along with this experiment. He would need to think up a _very special_ way to thank Craig for his participation.

Craig laughed nervously. “It’s just… I don’t know. It’s not a problem- like _at all_.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to understand Tweek’s logic. “It’s just ironic, I guess?”

“Whoa there, cowboy. I’m not allowed to have performance anxiety?”

“Well- no, not that. I just find that...hard to believe? You’re a professional, retired, but a professional, nonetheless.”

Tweek understood that perspective, he really did, but it was a bit naive for Craig to assume he didn’t feel the same way. Unlinking their arms, Tweek stopped to look at him head on. “Craig, how long have you watched me?”

“Since the beginning.”

“Uh-huh. Let me guess, you’ve fantasized about what it would be like to have sex with me?”

Folding his arms across his chest, Craig hesitated before giving Tweek a begrudging nod. Okay, so he hadn’t totally reconciled his Henri fantasies with the actual man in front of him. He needed to seduce and romance him, to learn what _Tweek_ liked.

“How often would you say? Approximately how many times a month? A week, maybe?” Tweek pressed his lips together, desperately trying to stifle a laugh. It was bad manners to play with your food, but Tweek never claimed to have good etiquette. And the darling, sheepish man in front of him wasn’t just a cup of noodles or a Hot Pocket; he was a whole damn meal.

In response, Craig could only manage to groan while rubbing his palms over his face.

“Would you say you had expectations for the experience?”

“Okay, I get it. You dick.”

Tweek gave him a playful poke in the ribs, and acting on impulse, Craig grabbed Tweek by the waist and hoisted him off the ground. Normally, this level of contact would seem too forward for a first date, but it didn’t _feel_ inappropriate. It felt natural.

“You are such a little shit, you know that?”

Tweek hummed in acknowledgement; he was well aware, it was the cornerstone of his charm. Determined to show Craig just how much of a little shit he could be, he lowered his eyelids to half mast. “Would it make you feel any better to know that I’ve fantasized about fucking you?”

Tweek hit the ground with an _oof_ and a thud. Craig looked scandalized with his gray eyes wide, and Tweek couldn’t even be miffed about the dirt on his designer jeans. Did Craig really think that he wasn’t sexually attracted to him? He really was bashful, through-and-through. But hell yes, Tweek could work with that. He would be positively delighted to guide Craig through his sexual renaissance.

After several moments of slackjaw staring, Craig’s heart resumed beating. Clearing his whirling mind with a shake, he extended his hand to Tweek and pulled him to his feet. “Okay, what’s your plan?”

“Well, there are other things we can do. If we work up to it, I think we’ll be more comfortable with each other when it does happen.”

“Alright. Let’s do it. Well, not _do it_ , we’ll save that for later.” Craig combed his fingers through his hair for what was probably the fifth time in the past five minutes. This man was going to be the death of him.

* * *

**Week Two**

As the summer breeze pushed the clouds away, Craig slid his sunglasses from atop his head to shield his eyes. Uncurling his legs, he frowned down at his lanky limbs. _Ugh, why do I have to have goddamn twig legs?_ Craig sighed and let his head fall back to the arm of the chaise. Soon after, the glass door slid open and Tweek stepped onto the patio, carrying a bowl of grapes.

“Open,” Tweek asked while leaning over the back of Craig’s chair.

Gladly accepting the fruit, Craig chewed and swallowed before popping his mouth open again. Tweek popped another grape in Craig’s mouth and set the bowl down to pick up his phone. “Want me to play the next episode? _Ooh_ , it’s about that Five Nights at Freddy’s novel. A lot of material to work with, there.”

“Hmm, in a minute. C’mere first.” Craig gestured toward Tweek with grabby hands.

While he was certainly enjoying the fair summer weather and listening to a podcast about bad books, this seemed like a fantastic time for a little break. Scooting over a bit, he pulled Tweek down next to him.

Tweek smoothed Craig’s hair away from his forehead, noticing the black hair warm to the touch. “You’re not to hot are you? We can go inside.”

“Nope, I’m a-okay. Feels fantastic out here, actually.”

“I really want to make a comment about you needing more vitamin _D_ , but even I’d be ashamed of that joke.”

“That’s a wise decision. I would have put you in a corner to think about your life choices.” Craig skimmed his fingers along Tweek’s jaw, pulling him closer. “Here, let me keep you from embarrassing yourself.”

Closing the distance between their mouths, he combed his fingers through Tweek’s hair and pressed their chests together. Now flush against Craig, Tweek wrapped his arms around his neck, kissing with more force. Craig’s response was immediate. He swiped his tongue over Tweek’s lips, asking him to open, which he instantly did. They ran their hands over each others bodies, squeezing and stroking with urgency until Craig tugged at Tweek’s hips. Making a soft moan, Tweek swung a leg over Craig’s lap and hovered there, waiting for Craig to show him what he wanted. In earnest, Craig grabbed Tweek’s ass and pulled his hips down to meet his own. As Craig sighed against Tweek’s lips, a set of teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

“No. Nope. Can’t do it. As soon as our dicks touch, I won’t be able to stop. I’ll stay here, you stay there.” Tweek hopped up, moving to the chair next to the chaise Craig was on.

“Okay…” Craig leaned down to pick up a gardening hose, and stretched it into a thin barrier between them. “It’ll be like a sitcom from the seventies. You stay on your side of the line, and I’ll stay on my side.”

Tweek nodded. _Good, that’s good. I can work with that. Think about something not sexy...not sexy...like-_ “Let’s talk porn. Go on, ask me the questions. Do your worst.”

“Alright...so how’d you get into the ‘trade’?”

“Jesus Christ, dude. Let’s save that one for later, ask me an easier one.”

“Okay, okay.” Craig thought for a minute, trying to come up with a more mild question. “What annoyed you the most about ‘the biz’?”

Tweek smiled at Craig with a hearty laugh. “Oh, I have plenty to say on that subject.” Deciding to play it up (he was an actor of sorts, after all), Tweek munched on a couple grapes before clearing his throat.

“First of all, they made me keep everything waxed from the neck down. _Everything._ Apparently, that’s a requirement for the twink aesthetic. Second, I was discouraged from getting any tattoos or piercings, because it would ruin my ‘innocent’ image. But you wanna know what the kicker was, Craig? The _piece de resistance_? I had to get my motherfucking asshole bleached. Even though I was three days past eighteen and so pale I bordered on translucent, my gash wasn’t pink enough for them.”

Craig actually sputtered at that, choking on the grape he was chewing. He was aware that intimate bleaching was a thing, but he never really thought about it, and certainly hadn’t talked to someone about having it done. Tweek was goddamn funny and sharp as a switchblade, but his candid way of speaking still caught Craig off guard at times. “Excuse me?”

“Yep, had that fucker lightened to look like a newborn baby’s butt. And, and- you know? Some guys’ cum tastes like fucking _bile_ , man. Would it kill them to eat some goddamn pineapple before a shoot? Christ.” Tweeks sighed. “At least you don’t actually swallow ninety percent of the time. But it still gets in your mouth.”

Craig noticed the way Tweek seemed to rise in his seat as he became animated, waving his arms about with vigor. The excitable man was on a roll, and didn’t notice how Craig’s mouth curled into a fond smile. Leaning his elbow on the arm of the chaise, Craig propped his chin in the palm of his hand. “This is absolutely fascinating, please, continue.”

“Sometimes, I had to be with guys who were really into weight lifting. I don’t really like ‘beefy’ guys. Big ropey muscles look like snakes in an old leather armchair, you know?”

“That is an accurate, yet terrifying comparison.” He couldn’t help but laugh at that. Too right. “So uh, how did you land on the name Henri Horne?”

“Um, oh. Maman was French-Canadian. She spoke French with me a lot.”

“Was?”

Tweek nodded. “We’ll get to that part _mon chou_. She wanted to name me Henri, but my dad is fucking insane.” He paused, closing his eyes and puffing a stream of air upward to blow a strand of hair from his face. “So you really want to know how I got into the trade?”

“I do.”

“Alright. Buckle up, buckaroo.”

* * *

**Week Three**

Craig cradled Tweek’s face, giving him short, fervent kisses in between sweet moans and rolls of his hips. Hitching Tweek up, he pulled him closer and settled against the pillows against Tweek’s headboard. Warm hands slid under his shirt, fingers flicking his nipples before trailing to his stomach. Craig squirmed.

“Hey, don’t touch my pudge.”

“Uh-uhh. I’m gonna touch you and squeeze you all I want, _mon râleur_. And see? I have plenty of squishy bits, myself.” Tweek lifted his shirt and began pinching and jiggling his untoned areas.

“Pfft, that’s just skin, you butthead.” Skimming his fingers over Tweek’s bare chest, Craig realized Tweek never mentioned going to the gym. “How did you get so...buff?”

Tweek laughed. “I don’t know about _buff_ , but any muscle I have comes from boxing.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I started when I was fourteen or so, to help temper my aggression and mood swings. I picked it up again a couple years ago. It’s the only kind of exercise I can stand. Well, besides sex.”

Craig snorted. “So you’re saying you could totally kick my ass?”

Tweek licked his lips and pressed them against Craig’s neck.

“Mmm darling, you know I could.”

“Could knock me out with one punch, then have your way with my unconscious body?”

Another kiss; this time, just behind his ear.

“Is that a request?”

Before Tweek could kiss him again, Craig grabbed his face and sealed their mouths together. Their embrace became heated, filled with a hungry intention that they’d been oh so carefully trying to avoid. Craig rocked his hips upward, letting out a content hum as Tweek rubbed against him. He was eager, without a doubt, but he wasn’t at that maddening, broken down, desperate stage yet. Craig wanted to wait until his body screamed at him, promising that they would be able to absolutely destroy each other.

Tweek pried his lips away with a wet smack. They stared at each other while panting through open mouths, both hoping the other would make a decision. His mind was clear by a small margin, though his hips were still rolling against the man between his thighs. The tones in Craig’s irises were like gradient colors on a topographical map. Or pewter artifacts collecting dark flecks of patina over years of use. With each roll of Craig’s hips the patina seemed to overtake the gray; soon they'd be entirely black.

The look on Tweek’s face was desperate and conflicted, like he was on the verge of cracking. Craig was afraid of what that look meant. If Tweek gave in, Craig would as well; he wouldn’t be able hold back. He didn’t think he was ready to go further, but it would be so easy to rip Tweek’s shirt over his head and peel those ripped jeans from his hips. When Tweek’s lovely jade eyes widened and his lips parted, Craig was certain he was going to call off the agreement.

“HELP! I need an adult! Craig’s trying to touch my personal area!”

_WHAT?_

Within seconds, Kenny burst into the room, nostrils flaring and huffing like a charging bull. Craig tried to scramble away, but pinned beneath Tweek’s thighs, he could only sputter and whip his head between Tweek and Ken.

“Wh?! I -no! WHAT?” Craig held his hands near his shoulders, keeping them in view and away from Tweek.

Kenny stalked toward the pair, and Craig was certain his life flashed before his eyes as remembered Kenny’s previous threats. “Kenny, I didn’t touch him like that. I _swear_ I didn’t! I would never do that if Tweek didn’t want to!”

However, Kenny ignored Craig, walking past the bed to snatch a copy of Dwell magazine from Tweek’s desk. Stalking toward the two, he rolled the magazine in his fist.

_*Smack*_

“That’s a bad Tweek! No!”

Craig watched in horrified fascination as Ken began swatting Tweek with the magazine. After half a dozen smacks, Tweek crawled off Craig’s lap and toward the foot of the bed.

Kenny lunged and grabbed ahold of Tweek’s ankle, pulling him back. “We do not blueball or scapegoat our guests! Very. Bad. Tweek.” He locked his legs around Tweek’s waist from behind, apparently nonplussed by his squealing and writhing.

Shaking his head, Craig tried to make sense of this whirlwind of a clusterfuck. But wait- Kenny didn’t lay a hand on him. “Y-you believe me?”

Kenny rolled his eyes. “Please, I know this one. He’s like that bunny from The Holy Grail; cute and fluffy, but also insatiable and crafty.” He tossed the magazine aside and began tickling Tweek without mercy. “Come on, if we both get him, we can probably make him pee himself.”

Grinning, Craig sat himself on top of Tweek’s legs and joined the tickle assault.

* * *

**Week Four**

Tweek  
  
hey honey  
  
Hey, babe. What’s up?  
  
my day off. Just being lazy  
  
Thinking about you  
  
Cute  
  
What about me?  
  
Imagining how your cock looks when it’s hard  
  
JFC I’m at work, Tweek  
  
well i’m at home and I’m horny  
  
Fuck  
  
Baby  
  
If im your fuck baby, can i call u daddy :)   
  
Please don’t  
  
And that was a terrible joke. You should be ashamed  
  
don’t make me sad, daddy :’(   
  
[photo attachment]

Craig scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked at Tweek’s coy pout. His bottom lip was pushed out, while his hazel eyes had the doe-eyed effect in full force. What a damn tease.

Tweek  
  
Fine. You can call me that 3 more times  
  
Then, _never_ again  
  
thanku daddy  
  
I already regret this  
  
2x left  
  
i don’t  
  
I’m already wet  
  
You’re a terrible person, Tweek  
  
and you're so sweet to me  
  
I wanna please you  
  
You make me feel so good  
  
See?  
  
[photo attachment]

As Craig expected, the second photo was more explicit. It was somehow angled from below his hips, flushed cock in the foreground with his fingers curled over the glistening sheen of precome. At the top, almost out of frame, was a sliver of Tweek’s face. Only his mouth was visible, his lips caught between what seemed like a gasp and a grin. He had no idea how Tweek managed such a shot, and were he not at work, Craig would’ve asked for more. Instead, he shifted in his seat, unable to find relief for his growing erection.

 

 

 

Tweek  
  
You’re insufferable, you that?  
  
i can’t stop thinking about how you might taste. I wanna lick you  
  
Don’t do this to me now  
  
I’m so close, Craig  
  
Goddammit, Tweek  
  
I made a mess, daddy. Please don’t be mad  
  
[photo attachment]

He shouldn’t have looked. Only a masochist would look. He fucking knew exactly what he would see, yet he couldn’t resist. How many times had Craig seen Tweek’s cum? Who the fuck cared? This time was for Craig and only Craig.

 

 

 

Tweek  
  
Fuck you. I have a meeting in 20 min  
  
fine, I’ll stop bothering you  
  
Just one last thing  
  
ONE thing, Tweek  
  
are you hard?  
  
You're such a brat  
  
[photo attachment: Craig’s dick, purple and swollen with blood, as his fingers squeeze around the shaft]  
  
I hate you so fucking much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The line about big muscles looking like snakes in a leather armchair? I stole that from Bob's Burgers. It's so damn true, though
> 
> come say hi @hagspice on tumblr


	4. Body Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Craig, can I touch your penis?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story was going to be only four parts, but I chose to split the final chapter to spread out the smut. Please accept the addition of a fifth chapter as an apology for taking so long to post.
> 
> Here we are, we finally arrived at the fireworks factory (that's an old-ass Simpsons reference, ask your parents to explain, kids). Smut will commence in 3....2...1...

**Week Five**

Tweek’s phone began to vibrate and he looked at the screen. Craig. It was almost midnight and he had to be at the bakery at six am, but he would gladly lose out on sleep to talk to his beautiful boy.

“Hey, Craig. You get settled at the hotel?”

“Yeah. Just finished eating; enjoying room service since it’s on the company’s dime.”

“Mmm how luxurious.”

“You know me, I enjoy the finer things in life,” Craig chuckled in that way that was always so cute with his nasally voice.

“Okay, I’m a terrible boyfriend. What city are you in?” Tweek tended to forget details like this. His thoughts flew through his conscious like finches at a birdfeeder; briefly pausing to gather a few of the tastiest morsels before bounding off to the next thing. Though, it didn’t keep him from feeling sheepish for not remembering.

“Oh we’re boyfriends, are we?” Relaxing into the pile of pillows lining the top of his hotel bed, Craig switched the call to speakerphone and laid his phone on his stomach.

“I- well. _Gah_ I thought maybe?”

“Shh shh I’m teasing. I’d love to be your boyfriend. Officially”

“ _Hnng_...okay.”

Now that was fucking adorable, Tweek making a embarrassed little whimper over Craig agreeing to be his boyfriend. He so rarely had the pleasure of flustering the impish man, and this was just precious. “I’m in Portland, babe.”

“Well, at least you’ll have your pick of trendy gluten-free restaurants to choose from. But I beg you, please don’t come back with a bunch of facial hair, and talking about Bon Iver.”

“As much as I’d like to honor your request, that rhyming really undercut the gravitas. I am not swayed.”

Tweek’s small growl rumbled through the phone speaker. “I was hoping you’d ignore that.”

“Not. A. Chance.”

Intent on shifting the conversation away from his dumbass, Tweek paused to clear his throat at an unnecessarily loud volume. “So, why are you in Portland?”

“I used to travel all the time for contracts, but a couple months ago, I managed to convince my supervisor to keep me at the office. I’m here to transition my coworker who’s taking over the account.”

“Oh, you traveled a lot?”

“Yep. It was fun at first; seeing new cities, staying in swanky hotels. That shit got old, though. Living out of a suitcase isn’t exactly glamorous.” God, did it get old. He felt like a caged animal at times, living in a single room with only his laptop and Nintendo Switch for company.

“I can understand that. And surviving solely on takeout tends to wreck your stomach after a bit, anyway.” Tweek drummed his fingers on his thigh. They’d never talked on the phone much, just a quick call to confirm plans, mainly texting and talking in person to communicate. They were certainly comfortable talking to each other, but Tweek found he missed being able to watch Craig’s little smiles and combing his fingers through his hair. “So...what are you wearing?”

“Boxers and an old-ass X-Files shirt.”

“Ooh baby, you’re making me so hot.”

“What if I told you there’s a hole in the right armpit?”

“Craig! You little minx! Does that mean you’re into some kind of intercrural-like armpit sex?”

“Wow is that a thing? I thought the appeal of intercrural was the teasing because it’s so close to your junk, but still not _there_? I could be wrong, I’m not an expert.” Craig snickered, unsure if they would keep with the playful exchange, or actually commit to a lewd conversation. He’d never done that before, being too shy to try, but Tweek would lead the way, no doubt.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’d want deodorant on my dick, man.”

“Oh hard same, dude. It might not do anything, but I’m not taking my chances.”

The conversation fell silent for a moment, as they both tried to think of a subject that could possibly follow armpit sex. Tweek spoke first.

“Um... So, which one is your favorite?”

“What ‘one’? I’m not sure what you mean… _Oh_. You mean your films?”

“Uh-huh.”

Alright. Craig could do this. Probably. Tweek’s voice was soft and much more timid than usual. Was he actually shy, or embarrassed?

“...Uh… Okay. You wore these little shorts that were like, straight out of the seventies. Terry cloth or velour, or something.”

Tweek made a hum of affirmation, encouraging him to continue.

“And those stupid socks that almost go up to your knees, the ones with the stripes at the top? You had a goddamn heart shaped lollipop. How the fuck do you come up with this stuff?”

Tweek laughed, free of teasing or coyness. “I like that one too. I wanted to have some fun with those horrendous seventies cliches. Bebe and I were obsessed with Xanadu and trying to rollerskate, and I think I’d just read Lolita. God those shorts were tiny.”

Yeah, that sounds about right. God, he could imagine Bebe and Tweek all dressed up at the skating rink. That shit should be illegal. “Well, at some point after you started going at it, your clothes got messed up. Do you remember what happened?”

“Mmm, why don’t you remind me?”

“I know you’re teasing me, you asshole.” Craige sighed deeply, rubbing his hands over his face. “The tip of your cock was sticking out of the waistband of those goddamn shorts, and I kept thinking about how your mouth would taste like cherries. The first time I saw that, I…” Craig chuckled dryly. “You fucking broke me, Tweek. I came so hard, I thought I’d go blind.”

“I remember that part.” Tweek giggled at that, full on giggled at the thought of blowing twenty year old Craig’s mind.

Craig never realized that a grown man giggling could be so sexy, but, goddammit. He felt his dick throb and wished that he could hear Tweek giggling when he’s balls deep inside him. “I don’t wanna know if it was staged or a happy accident. Just let me dream.”

“Fair enough. So, what would you do if you were on set?”

“Probably have a fucking heart attack.”

“No, I mean…if you were the one with me, what would you have done?”

“Oh. I dunno. Um.” Craig swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat. The dirty talk was starting; okay, deep breaths. “You were such a little tease, you know? Looking like you’d never seen a cock before in your life, but as soon as you had one in front your face, you’d go to town on it like it’s your first meal in days. I’d want to put in your place.”

“Put me in my place. And where’s that Craig?”

“Fuck, I don’t know, Tweek. Impaled on my dick? What do you want me to say?”

Tweek laughed along with Craig. What a good boy, coming out of his shell, and giving it the ol’ college try. “Say whatever you want, honey. You don’t have to be poetic, there’s no right answer. I just wanna know what turns you on.”

Craig groaned in embarrassment.

“Okay, I’ll tell you what I’m doing, and you- you tell me the first image you think of, okay? Just describe it as you see it.” Tweek paused for a few seconds, allowing Craig to mentally prepare. “I’m still sitting on the kitchen counter. I’m...disheveled, just as you liked it. I’m waiting for you to make a move.”

“Okay.” Craig closed his eyes, thinking of Tweek sitting there, swinging his legs in the air. The pink skin peeking out of his shorts, as he wrapped his lips around that heart shaped candy. “I’m already hard just from looking at you, you’re acting so coy and innocent.”

“Mhm. I am but a shy little maid who needs a big strong man to take care of him.”

Ugh, he _was_ hard already. Thinking of Tweek sitting there, waiting for him was just as tantalizing as it was torturous. “I need to put my mouth on you, on the most sensitive skin on your entire body. I’d suck on it for barely a second. Just enough to tease you.”

“Tease me?” It sounded like Tweek was pouting. Good.

“Yep,” he grinned. “I bet the fabric would feel amazing under my fingers. On your tight ass. I- I wanna fuck you through those goddamn shorts, I don’t think I’ll be able to get them off fast enough.”

“Are you gonna tear ‘em off me, Craig? Show me how strong you are?”

“You want my dick that bad?”

Even as Craig said those words, his tone still held his natural tenderness. Not goading and completely driven by testosterone, but almost nurturing; like offering water to a parched mouth. “You know I do.”

“Do I? You’re gonna have to convince me that you really want it. Why don’t you beg for it.”

Tweek whimpered. “I know what you look like now, I can imagine your cock anytime I want to. But that isn’t enough, I need to have you against my skin, on my tongue, filling me.”

“Mmm that’s a good start.” Fuck, it was more than a good start. The words were simple, but it was the way Tweek said them that struck Craig with a pang of longing. Tweek sounded needy, though calm and deliberate, like his eyes were closed and imagining the two of them acting out every work he spoke. “Keep going.”

“I’ll do whatever you want to show you how much I want you. Touch myself, get down on my knees for you, let you tie my hands behind my back. You want me to be your little cockslut? Am I your slut, Craig?”

“...”

“Craig?”

“Yeah.” He let out a breath. “I’m. I’m not comfortable calling you that, Tweek.”

Tweek smiled, wishing he could reach out and stroke Craig’s cheek. It can be difficult to decline a request, and he was proud of him for speaking up. Such a good boy- best boy, in fact. “That’s alright, Craig… Are you touching yourself right now?”

“Uh huh.”

“Jerking off or fucking yourself?”

“Jerking off, I didn’t bring any supplies with me; gotta do it the old fashioned way. What about you, my dear?”

“Dildo.”

Craig hummed in approval. “How big?”

“Not as big as you~,” Tweek simpered.

Craig snorted. “Wow, such a flatterer.” He rubbed his thumb over his slit, smearing more precome over the head of his cock. It would be incredible to see Tweek's little cheeks turning pink and jiggling as their bodies slapped together.

“Well, I’m not a size queen per se, but I do appreciate a little something extra.”

Craig had learned that his dick was bigger than average, but he assumed it was because he was so tall. You know, being proportionate or some shit. It also seemed like size came with unnecessary expectations; partners often anticipated getting their asses wrecked. But size didn’t dictate skill- what’s the point of it if you don’t know how to use it? He wasn’t about to just jackhammer into someone, that was boring as hell. “I’ll bend you over that counter, facedown, so I can look at your cute little ass.”

Tweek moaned desperately, imagining Craig pumping into him, picturing Craig’s pelvis slapping against his balls instead of the heel of his own hand. “ _Fuck. Craig._ ”

That scratchy voice. Tweek’s little moans. Fuck, he needed to slow down, or he was going shoot his load already. “Stop fucking yourself. Now.”

Tweek growled in frustration. “No!”

“I said, _stop_ , you fucking brat.”

Tweek gasped. Craig had never been assertive like that before, and god it was so hot. He stilled his hand, sulking as he tried to slow his breathing. He wanted to scream in frustration; he couldn’t fathom how he managed to suppress his orgasm, it didn’t seem possible. He looked down at his dick to make sure. Nope, no cum. Just quivering legs and a cock so engorged that it was almost purple.

“I can’t. I don’t think I can control it anymore,” he practically sobbed. There was so self control left at this point, Tweek’s body had a mission, and it would continue without him.

It was strangely satisfying to hear Tweek so broken down, and the whines and moans coming through the phone speaker were fucking with Craig so hard. It made Craig insanely horny and a bit arrogant, but he also felt more connected to experience Tweek so vulnerable and desperate to please. The side of him that wanted to give in and let someone else take over.

“Okay, okay. Let me hear you come. I’ve heard you so many times before, but I wanna know how _you_ sound. Just you, without the camera.” he purred. Maybe Tweek was a tease, but Craig certainly wasn’t; he didn’t quite have the wherewithal to keep up a bratty attitude. He bucked his hips, jerking his hand as fast as he could while gripping the shaft with the lightest friction.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Tweek grabbed his cock, and wiggled the toy inside himself to stroke his prostate, getting the final push he needed. “ _Craig. Oh god. Nngh._ ”

When Tweek called out to him, it took all of three seconds for Craig to break, coming over his hand and stomach. In his mind, Craig was on the edge of the bed, digging his heels into the carpet and thrusting his hips as Tweek bounced in his lap. He imagined the cum streaking across their bodies, and a gutteral moan vibrated in his chest. “ _Fuck._ Tweek, fuck.”

A _whoosh_ of air passed over the mic as Tweek made a content sigh. “I wish I could kiss you.”

“Me too, babe. Facetime me?”

“Mhm. I wanna see your cum.”

Craig snorted in amusement. He really shouldn’t be surprised by Tweek anymore. “Really, Tweek?” Tweek pouted at him. Craig rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He switched the camera view to selfie, and panned the screen over his torso and hand. “Satisfied?”

“Mmhmm.” Tweek flashed a pleased smirk, like a cat who got the cream. “Ooh wait- taste it?”

“I’m gonna pass on that.”

* * *

 

**Week Six**

Craig walked into the foyer, kicking off his shoes and ungracefully dropping his bag in the hallway. “Hey buttheads, I’m home!”

“In the kitchen, baby boy!”

Strolling into the kitchen, Craig raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Tweek? This is unexpected- but definitely appreciated.”

Tweek stood up from a crouch, setting a steaming dish of lasagna on the stovetop before closing the oven door. “I wanted to welcome you back with dinner. I’m almost done. Go get freshened up, and we’ll be ready to eat.”

“How’d you manage to get the guys out of the house? If there’s food, usually you can’t even chase Clyde away with a shotgun.” With a beaming smile, he stepped behind Tweek- _his boyfriend_ -and wrapped his arms around his waist. He inhaled the comforting smell of melted cheese and meaty sauce and was so very thankful that he hadn’t stopped at a fast food joint on his way home from the airport.

“Well, Jimmy can take a hint, and I promised the leftovers to Clyde, so he eventually relented.” Tweek set his oven mitts on the counter and turned to give Craig a kiss, only to see a surprise of his own. “Oh my god! Craig, are you wearing glasses?”

Craig’s face flushed with warmth. That’s right, they hadn’t yet spent the night together, so Tweek didn’t know. “Oh. Yeah, I hate wearing contacts lenses when flying, so I wear my glasses. I usually just wear them after I get ready for bed, and in the morning before I shower.”

“Now you really look like a geeky math boy. Are you going to invite me to your Revenge of the Nerds style frat house for a Star Trek marathon and chill?” He ran his hands over Craig’s chest while trailing light kisses along his collarbone. The grey rectangular frames were really working for him; Tweek hadn’t thought Craig could be more sexy, but he was sorely mistaken. “Ooh! Take ‘em off, all intense like you’ve just made a startling discovery.”

Like an excited puppy anticipating a treat, Tweek stared at him as he shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. Craig enjoyed watching him squirm for another moment, before pulling his face into a melodramatic stare, and yanking his glasses off his face.

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe it’s not butter! _Yeow!_ Cue a banging track by The Who.”

Appraising Craig with a coy smile, Tweek fanned himself. “Mercy. I do declare.”

They both leaned in for a kiss, pressing their bodies together and rubbing noses.Their lips were a scant inch apart when Tweek gasped and grinned up at Craig.

“Ooh! Do it again! Pretend you’re a paleontologist and make a euphemism about finding a _bone_.” Tweek wiggled his hips against Craig to make it more obvious.

Craig’s stomach rumbled, breaking their playful atmosphere. Nuzzling into the side of Tweek’s head, he nipped his ear. “Hmm I dunno babe. Why don’t we save the _bones_ for after dinner?”

* * *

Tweek continued kissing Craig’s neck, traveling to the delicate skin just behind his ear; this was Craig’s sweet spot, he discovered. When teased with warm breath and soft grazes of lips, Craig never failed to make some sort of sound or spasm. Though Tweek took great joy in riling him up, it was only a convenient byproduct; the true pleasure came from giving Craig the affection and satisfaction he needed. That he deserved.

Craig’s heart rate increased dramatically and he couldn’t help taking shallow breaths. He was so goddamn hard, and he wasn’t sure what he’d be able to do about it. Pulling Tweek’s hips up against his own, Craig rutted against him. Tweek moaned in pleasure against his lips, and Craig squeezed his ass roughly, spurred on by the vibration against his mouth. How would those trembling lips feel on his dick, or his ass? What sounds would he make if Craig did it to him?

Gentle fingers held his chin and turned his face, and Tweek looked into his eyes. They were full of passion, but were also clear and resolute. His voice was husky, barely above a whisper. 

“Can I touch you?”

“You sure?”

Tweek gave him a small nod and smiled. “Yeah. I wanna touch you.”

A warm hand slid up Craig’s thigh, stopping an inch or so from his dick. He sucked in a steadying breath at those words and tilted his hips into the touch, bracing himself for what was about to happen. Tweek looked up at him through his lashes as he bit his lip; he was so eager, so excited. Craig couldn’t wait to become a tangle of limbs and warm flesh. Pressing feverish kisses across Tweek’s neck, he nodded emphatically.

“Yeah. Yeah, let’s do that,” he replied stupidly. 

Breaking away from each other, they pulled their shirts off and dropped them on the floor with indifference before grappling with their pants. Their hands kept bumping while they inelegantly tugged at each others belts and zippers; they were too excited, to earnest to slow down. In a tangle of limbs, they realized this was not an effective method, and broke apart to take care of their own clothing.

“Hold on,” Craig chuckled, “lift your hips for me.”

Craig sat back on his heels and unfastened Tweek’s pants, pulling them down and smirking as he saw the straining bulge in his underwear. Laughing, he yanked down the skimpy bikini briefs and tossed them aside.

“Hmm, never would’ve pegged you as the type to go for such tiny underwear.”

“Yeah, yeah. Just hush and let me strip you.” He sounded annoyed, defensive, even.

The subject of Tweek’s underpants was clearly prime fodder for teasing; however, Craig had much more important business to attend to. He would have to circle back to that later. Placing his palms on the arm of the couch, he held himself in a plank position, Allowing Tweek to peel off his pants. Their clothes became a crumpled pile on the carpet, unnecessary and forgotten.

Now that they were both bare, Craig positioned himself over Tweek and pressed their bodies together. There was a brief moment of Elysian peace as they finally touched, giving each other that connection they both desperately wanted. He savored the feeling of the warm weight of Tweek’s cock in his hand, along with the anticipation that they were about to do this together, that the sounds and expressions Tweek would make were just for him. However, that sense of peace was quickly broken as his lust took over, and Craig knew he’d have to restrain himself so they both wouldn’t come during the next twenty seconds.

Tweek ran his hands down Craig’s back and landed on his ass, that cute little nonexistent ass. He sighed. He was holding Craig in his arms, nothing separating them; reveling in the bliss of skin against skin, and adoring the lovely body he’d became familiar with over the past couple weeks. Even more so while Craig was on his business trip. They’d had more explicit phone sessions when Craig was away, even using FaceTime by the end of the week. Watching his boyfriend get himself off the way he liked made Tweek determined to give Craig whatever he needed.

“What’s this?”

Craig looked down as Tweek ran his fingers along the base of his cock. _Oh. That thing._ The mole right at the place where his dick met his pelvis. Tweek probably didn’t see it during their video calls, because his hand was covering it. He hated it, though it was stupid to fret over a mole, but why did it have to be _right there_? There were plenty of other moles and beauty marks on his body, weren’t they enough? Craig sighed. “It’s a mole. Or freckle, something like that.”

“Aw, it’s so cute,” Tweek cooed as he traced his index finger over it again.

Before Craig knew what was happening, he bent down, placing a sweet kiss on the mole. Craig’s hips bucked as he cried out. “ _Ahh!_ Babe, warn a guy before going in like that!”

Falling back on the couch cushions, Tweek began to laugh, giving Craig one of his impish smirks. Unamused by the antics, Craig dove forward and crashed their mouths together to silence his jerk of a boyfriend. It certainly worked. Tweek made a satisfied groan against his lips, then reached between their hips to take their erections in his hand.

Craig pushed Tweek’s hand away, wrapping his fingers around both their cocks.  
and moaning into Tweek’s mouth.

Tweek held fistfuls of Craig’s inky hair, keeping their faces close together. Craig wanted him to relinquish control, and Tweek was trying, but his body was so damn stubborn. Then, oh Jesus then, Craig stroked him just the way he liked, the way Tweek had done to himself during their calls, and any remaining restraint dissolved. 

Cradling Craig’s head, Tweek nuzzled him and covered his forehead in kisses. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to stave off his orgasm. This was incredible, everything he hoped it would be, and he wasn’t ready for it to end. “Craig. _Ngh_ that feels so good.”

Craig ground his hips downward, making Tweek gasp against his neck. Skimming his lips along Tweek’s jaw, he chuckled, making a dark and gravelly rumble in his throat. “Oh, I know, sunshine.”

“Wh-?” Surprised at the dominance, Tweek started to ask him what exactly he meant by that cocky comment, but the question died in his mouth as Craig sank his teeth into into his bottom lip. Bucking into Craig’s hand, Tweek whined as their cocks rubbed against each other, wet and slick with precome. Craig kept ahold of Tweek’s lip, sucking at it while as he twisted his hand over their shafts.

“You showed me how to make you come, remember? Now-” Craig held Tweek’s chin between his fingers, forcing him to look into his grey eyes. Giving their cocks one last stroke, he grinned, watching as Tweek’s breath hitched. The breath stuttered in his throat and dissolved into a straining whine as warm cum spurted into Craig’s palm. Using Tweek’s cum, he gave his own dick a few wet, rough jerks, moaning as his cum spilled between their bodies. He looked down at Tweek’s flushed face with a victorious smile.

“Now, I know how to put you in your place”.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr @hagspice


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